Project Flight
by Alvery
Summary: Link has always been the social outcast, feared and ignored by the others. However, one winged newcomer, bullied and abused, shatters his solitude for good, and he may be able to slay the one monster that Link can't defeat - the one inside his head.
1. Sticks and Stones

***Hey guys! This story will only be a few chapters long, but I hope you like it all the same. It would mean the world to me if you reviewed! Thanks in advance! Oh, and I don't own anything. Enjoy! :3**

It was after our daily warm-up matches that I heard it. The whisper, borne by talkative lips, floating around the sweaty, breathless crowd.

"There's a new kid."

I tried to ignore the whisper, to punctuate the distraction with jabs of my sword. But it wasn't long before Marth ran up to me, his blue eyes gleaming like bright jewels in his comparatively colorless face.

"Did you hear?" he asked excitedly.

With a low swing, I knocked the Sandbag to its side. "Hear what?"

He watched me send it flying with a calculated kick of my foot. "We have a new Brawler."

"Oh, that."

"So you heard?"

"It's just the only thing anyone will talk about," I said, straightening up and sheathing my sword. "I'm _sick_ of hearing about it."

"We don't even know his name yet," said Marth. "We just know he's here. And he's - a 'he'."

"Hm," I said. "And this matters because?"

"Well, it doesn't," said Marth. "But I just figured you'd want to know. You don't have to be all snippy about it, Link."

After we had all cleaned up and rested, some matches were scheduled for the new kid, to 'break him into the atmosphere', as Master Hand so artfully put it. Really, they were testing him to see what he could handle. The first match was with Peach. She returned with a torn dress, a black eye, and a blistering temper.

"He's a freak," she spat angrily at whoever would listen. "He just zooms all around the stage and shoots at me! It's cowardly!"

Falco, the next match, returned with an equally furious report.

"He's _annoying. _All he does is spam. _No _strategy whatsoever."

The next report:

"An idiot, and a rude one at that."

And the _next:_

"He's got such a stupid voice – if he taunts one more time I'm going to rip his stupid wings off!"

And so on.

Each chosen Brawler returned defeated and fuming, and added another line to the kid's growing description. By lunchtime, people were having serious discussions about how uncivilized and mutated this kid was, and how he must have tricked Master Hand into letting him into our private roster. Ness swore that the newcomer wasn't a humanoid at all, and was instead a large dragon that Crazy Hand had sent out to eat us all. Rumors, most of them ridiculous, circulated around the cliques and groups, twisting until we half-believed that the newcomer was a monster of some kind, rude and annoying, zooming around and showing off his wings.

I stayed off to the side, separate from them, like always. Despite being a veteran, I was the weird one. The solitary one. Even Marth stayed away when we weren't training. I supposed that I had generated so much self-hate over the years that it began to seep through the cracks, and people avoided me because of it.

But I didn't mind. Being alone – it was something you got used to, and finally, you came to prefer it.

Still, I was curious about the newcomer.

"His name is _Pit," _Marth snorted as we passed each other in the Mansion hallway. "Dumb name, eh? Guess it fits."

Later, when I was reading a book in the lounge, I could hear Ike and Captain Falcon scheming over how to best get "revenge" on this Pit kid. I just frowned and turned the page without comment. Wasn't it a little _much _to be plotting revenge on a newbie just because they beat you in a match? Then again, losing to a newcomer was a big deal in our Mansion. It rarely ever happened. It had to be humiliating.

I watched them curiously in my peripheral vision as they whispered and laughed and shot occasional glances at the door. Finally, they got up, gave each other a knowing look, and sidled out of the room. I snapped my book shut and followed them. They were probably going to talk to the newcomer. I just wanted to see him for myself. Did he really have six eyes? Were his wings really scaly, like a dragon's? Was he honestly ruder than Wario?

I stayed a safe distance away from them. If they turned and saw me, it didn't matter; they wouldn't say anything. Half the Brawlers were afraid of my dark, brooding nature; the other half just thought I was weird and didn't deign to notice me. Marth was an outstanding exception.

They turned into the match warm-up room – the place we kept all of our equipment and special training tools. I followed suit quietly, my feet barely making even the slightest whisper of a sound on the floor. Ike and Falcon immediately laughed and pointed to a small huddled shape in the corner of the room.

At first, I thought it was a kid. A _kid _kid, really young, like Lucas or Ness. But then the awkward shape stood up and stretched itself out, and I realized I was mistaken; the newcomer had to be at least as old as I was. My mouth dropped open.

He wasn't a monster, he wasn't a fire-breathing, man-eating dragon. He was an _angel._

Well, that was new.

His wings were smaller than I expected an angel's wings to be – they looked about as big as Yoshi's in his Final Smash, like toy wings instead of real ones. They were a soft, downy white, matching his outfit, and his skin was nearly as pale – it was almost sickly-looking. A squirrel's-nest of plain brown hair was atop his head, framing his childlike face and wide, vulnerable, opalescent blue eyes. I would have said he was twelve if it weren't for those eyes – they were timeless, mature. They briefly met mine and then flashed away, settling on Ike and Falcon with great distrust.

"Well?" said the boy, Pit, and his voice was soft, like a young child's. I felt the strange urge to hug him. "What do you want?"

"We came to put you in your place," replied Ike. He sneered. "You think you're pretty cool, don't you, beating all of the veterans?"

Pit raised his nose a fraction. "I guess I'm entitled, aren't I?"

I laughed. Ike glared at me and I looked away, pretending to be examining the nearest Sandbag.

"No," said Ike, turning back to Pit. "You're _not _entitled. Because all of those victories – they were just luck. What's your strategy, flying in circles and shooting arrows everywhere like a complete moron?"

"What's yours?" said Pit. "Running from them?"

That started me laughing again. This time Ike lobbed an item container at my head. I ducked; it glanced off the wall and clattered onto the ground. I looked at Pit; he had a little grateful smile on his face.

"You're not supposed to _camp, _stupid," said Ike angrily, turning back to Pit.

"Camp?" said Pit.

Ike howled with frustration. "Camp! Camp! You don't know what camping is? God, what are you, five?"

"Camping is just sitting there and shooting your dumb arrows everywhere," snapped Falcon. "Master Hand strictly forbids it. That, and spamming."

"Spamming?"

This time they both howled, as if Pit's single question had stabbed them like a sword.

"You're so stupid!" cried Ike. "No wonder nobody can stand you!"

"It's better off if you just leave now," said Falcon threateningly. "Before we _make _you leave."

"I'm not leaving," said Pit, and he looked both defiant and scared. "You can't do that. Master Hand -"

"Screw Master Hand!" snarled Ike. "Why he allowed this, I have no idea. You're a mutant."

"Freak," added Falcon.

"I was born with these," muttered Pit. It sounded like he was trying not to cry.

"Well, they're small," said Falcon. "You can't even really fly with them, just hover...Meta Knight can fly...why can't you? What's wrong with you? Are you weak? Or are all angels shrimps like you?"

"Go away," said Pit.

"Come on," said Ike. "Come on, Falcon - we'll get him when the elf isn't here..."

Shooting me a derisive glance, Ike turned and stalked out. Falcon made a very insulting gesture directed at Pit and followed suit. The door slammed shut; it was just me and Pit, who was staring determinedly at his knees.

"What?" snapped Pit as I came nearer. "Going to tell me that I don't deserve to be here with all you _legends? _Because you're wasting your breath – I already know that. Everyone else made sure of that." His bottom lip trembled slightly, but his glare was solid.

"No," I said awkwardly. "I...are you okay?"

"Absolutely freaking fantastic," said Pit sarcastically. "Now leave me alone!"

That instantly made me bristle. "I was just trying to be nice."

"I don't need your sympathy," said Pit. "I can take care of myself."

"Yeah, clearly," I said, my own voice becoming unfriendly.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that you shouldn't sit in a corner and feel sorry for yourself," I snapped. "That's how they pick their victims – the weak and the helpless."

"I'm not weak!" said Pit defensively. "I beat them all! I beat them! I can handle them!"

"So why are they walking all over you?"

"They're not!" shouted Pit, leaping to his feet. "They're afraid of me! They know I can beat them!"

"No, they're afraid of _me," _I corrected him. "That's why they left without picking a fight with you."

"So?" said Pit. "So what? I don't need you to be my _bodyguard."_

I watched him apprehensively, but he didn't seem to want to fight. He hadn't even picked up his strange weapon that was a bow-sword crossover.

"Well, let me tell you something," I said. "You need somebody to be on your side. Because hardly anyone in this Mansion fights fair. They'll gang up on you, and it'll be three on one, or twelve on one, or thirty on one, and you won't stand a chance."

Pit rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet, looking uncertain. Finally, he sat back down, hugging his knees to his chest, looking utterly defeated.

"They hate me," he said in a small voice.

I couldn't argue with him.

"Everyone hates me," Pit continued, a quaver in his voice.

"I don't hate you," I said.

"But you don't like me," Pit conceded, looking up at me as though daring me to deny it.

I opened my mouth and closed it again, and then found myself saying in a high-pitched voice that wasn't entirely my own, "I don't know you well enough to like you."

"Get to know me, then," said Pit. "I'll get to know you, too. What's your favorite color?"

I didn't smile.

"You don't want to get involved with me," I said darkly. "Nobody does."

"Why?" asked Pit. "What's wrong with you?"

Ha. In all my years of Brawl, nobody had once asked me such a direct and clear-cutting question. _What's wrong with you?_

"A lot," I said, laughing dryly.

"That's not funny, you know."

"Oh, I know."

"I'm not so perfect either," said Pit, still in that small, childlike voice. "I'm the only angel _ever _with wings this small."

I sat down next to him. His gleaming, catlike eyes flickered to me and then away, gazing out at something I couldn't see.

"I can't fly," he said.

He said this as though admitting an embarrassing social shortcoming, like not being able to ride a bike or tie a shoe.

It probably wasn't the most sensitive thing to say, but I offered, "What's so great about flying anyway?"

Pit gave me a belligerent look. I quickly backtracked.

"The people you fought said you were zooming all around the stage."

"I can glide and hover," said Pit sadly, pulling his wing in front of him and gazing at it with great disappointment. "I can fly for a few seconds. But I'm not strong enough to stay in the air. My goddess sent me here to get stronger, so I could finally fly. She thought it would help me. But," he burst out in frustration, "I'm _not _growing! I'm just sore! And when I'm sore, I can't fly! And when I can't fly, I can't strengthen my wings!" His fingers clenched around the wing he held, fingernails digging into feathers. "I don't think it's helping me at all. Nothing helps me. And these stupid Brawlers aren't exactly giving me tips!"

"I'm a stupid Brawler," I said, with a dab of asperity. "I can give you tips."

Pit buried his head in his arms.

"Look, kid," I began.

"Don't call me _kid!" _Pit's head flashed up, his teeth bared. "My name is Pit. My _real _name is Icarus. But call me Pit."

"Okay, okay," I said, startled by his ferocity. "Pit. Can I tell you something secret?"

He blinked. It was sort of cute when he did it, like a kitten tilting its head. "What?"

"I can't fly either."

He laughed for the first time, his laughter bouncing off the walls. He had a pleasant laugh, the kind you might hear on a children's show. "I sort of figured."

"My name is Link," I told him.

"Link," he said thoughtfully, examining me. Finally, he nodded as though I had earned his approval. "Nice to meet you, Link."

"Yeah, you too," I said. As he turned to leave, I added, "And, hey. Don't listen to the others. They don't know what they're talking about. Keep your chin up, okay?"

As Pit smiled, nodded, and continued out of the room, I thought privately that perhaps I should start taking my own advice.


	2. Welcome Notes

***This chapter is going to be a little bit shorter, but I hope you enjoy it all the same. :D Please review!**

Every few weeks, we had a full week to rest as opposed to a weekend, but instead of lounging, we had to attend short lessons on history of the different universes, communication arts, science, arithmetic, and yoga (Master Hand had given up on finance lessons, as everyone had different currencies). The idea was to keep us well-rounded, and keep us from turning into bloodthirsty brutes, and usually it worked, but in the close quarters of the classroom, cliques were especially evident. I usually sat by myself in a corner, aimlessly scribbling Hylian letters on my paper, ignoring the class as much as they ignored me. But with Pit in the equation, that didn't work so well.

He sat next to me the first day of class, smiling nervously.

"Hi," he whispered.

"Hi, Pit," I answered. I was surprised to see him, but pleased, too. "Feeling better?"

He shrugged. "A bit. You?"

I smiled bitterly. "Same as ever."

A wadded up ball of paper came flying out of nowhere and bounced off Pit's forehead. I automatically snatched it out of the air and then squirmed around in my chair, looking for the thrower. It was from Peach – she was staring right at me.

"Not for you," she was mouthing. "For him." She pointed to Pit.

Hesitantly, I handed the balled up paper to Pit.

He unfolded it and smoothed it out, then bent over it, reading. I leaned over his shoulder, trying to read it as well, but the cheap fluorescent lights bathed the paper in light the color of curdled cream, and by the time my eyes had adjusted enough to read the first word, Pit's hand curled around the letter, scrunching it up into a ball. His face was bright red.

Before I could react, someone tapped me on the shoulder. It was Marth.

"Hey, Link," he said quickly, glancing at the teacher's turned back, "give this to Pit, okay?"

He held out another note, folded up in the palm of his hand.

I lost my temper. "If it's a note poking fun at him, then you can stick it up your –"

"It's not from me," Marth interrupted impatiently. "It's from Red. Red said it was a nice note, just welcoming him to Brawl."

"It better be," I muttered under my breath, and stuck the note under Pit's elbow. Marth darted back to his seat.

Pit smoothed out this note, too, looking resigned. When he finished reading, his face grew, if possible, even redder. Laughter echoed from the back of the room. I wanted to strangle Red.

"Ignore them," I said to Pit, trying to sound offhand. "Just ignore them, don't give them any satisfaction…"

The class began, and I couldn't get in any more advice. I just settled back into my seat, scowling, trying unsuccessfully to tune out the giggling in the back of the room. Beside me, Pit was a little too interested in the lesson – he stared at the chalkboard unblinkingly. I could tell that he, too, was trying to drown out the laughter.

Halfway through the lesson on Samus's universe, another note flew through the air, bouncing off of my shoulder. Annoyed with their bad aim, I leaned over and picked it up.

"What's that?" whispered Pit.

I closed my hand around the note, hiding it under the table.

"My eraser," I lied.

"No, it's not," whispered Pit, straining to see under the table. "It's another note, isn't it?"

"Pit," I began in a soothing tone, but I didn't know what else to say. There was an awkward silence, punctuated by the teacher's droning voice.

"Alright," said Pit in a resigned sort of voice, "let me see it."

But I leaned away from him, reading the note for myself. I wasn't going to let him get hurt again.

Pit

_i hope you fly into the sun and burn to death_

_we all hate you_

_the sandbag is higher tier than you are_

_go fuck yourself, fag._

Blood rushed to my head. Who would dare write something like that? Anger broiled like acid within me, and the developing protective feelings for Pit reared up stronger than ever.

"Is it bad?" Pit urged me, watching my face change as I read and reread the note.

"No," I said, but I folded up the note as I spoke.

"Then give it me."

"No."

Pit lunged for it anyway, as I knew he would. He grabbed the note; we played a silent tug of war game until the teacher finally noticed and barked at us to desist.

"Passing notes in class?" he said in his low, reedy voice. "Give it here!"

Reluctantly, I relinquished the note. The teacher strode to the front of the room, holding it out in front of him like a dangerous, contaminated material.

"Let's see what Link and Icarus think is so much more important than my lesson," rumbled the teacher.

There were fresh outbreaks of giggling at the name 'Icarus'. Pit hid his head in his arms on the desk. I felt like doing the same.

The teacher read it out loud, his eyebrows traveling farther and farther up his head with each line. The class was roaring with laughter, rolling around in their seats. Pit looked like he wanted to sink through the floor.

The teacher stopped before the last line, adjusted his glasses, cleared his throat, and said, "Whoever is responsible for this very rude note will be punished severely! We do not tolerate bullying, do you understand me?"

Someone piped up, imitating his reedy voice, "Icarus!" and that started everyone laughing again.

"Hey, Pit," shouted Ike. "Who am I? _Hiyahyahyah!"_ He did a wild, floppy impression of Pit's attack. The laughter grew.

"Ignore him," I intoned under my breath.

I have to admit, he put up a good effort in ignoring them. I could see his arms shaking just slightly as he busied himself tearing the notes to strips. In the back, everyone launched into an enthusiastic discussion on Pit's moves, insulting them in every way they could possibly think of.

"You guys aren't funny," said Samus in a disgusted voice.

They ignored her.

"How much did you pay Link to sit next to you?" someone else howled at Pit, who tore the strips into even smaller strips, clearly biting back a retort.

"Shut the hell up," I said.

"Ooooooooh," said a chorus of voices, followed by giggling.

Pit stood up, his face redder than ever, and ran out of the classroom, slamming the door behind him. Samus, after a moment's hesitation, ran after him.

"If that's all," said the teacher coldly, "then let's continue class, shall we?"

As soon as the bell rang, I stalked to the back of the classroom and cornered Marth.

"What was _that?" _I demanded.

He grinned lopsidedly. "What was what?"

"Why were you making fun of Pit?"

Marth laughed heartily. "Oh, come on, Link, he can take a joke, we were just –"

"You can't possibly mean that you were _kidding around," _I said, almost snarling at him. "Did you see him? Did you see his face? You guys humiliated him."

Marth continued to smile, as though my rant didn't affect him whatsoever. "You have it all wrong. We were just teasing."

Everyone around him was smiling and bobbing their heads agreeably, like they were oh-so-saintly, a big happy circle of innocence. Like this class period had never even happened – or that all that _did _happen was a little bit of friendly joking around.

"What about the notes?"

Marth rolled his eyes. "Oh, calm down. I already told you, we were just messing with him. He knows that."

"What you said was cruel," I said. "You've been nothing but cruel to him ever since he beat half the veterans. Is that what it is? Jealousy?" Once I got going, I couldn't stop. "Is everyone jealous because he kicked ass and he's barely been here a day? That's pathetic."

Marth stopped smiling.

"Nobody's jealous of that twitchy freak," he said, sounding a whole lot less pleasant. "You're going to have your reputation damaged if you keep siding with him. Not that it was so great in the first place," he tacked on resentfully.

I stared at him, hardly believing what I was hearing.

"Do me a favor," said Marth, "and don't talk to me."

Heads turned to look at me, seeing how I would react, but I didn't say anything. I just stood there, wondering what I should do. Clearly, I wasn't welcome anymore – and all because I defended a victim of cruelty.

"Fight!" somebody said, and then, like an infectious disease, it swept over the rest of them.

"Fight! Fight! Fight!" everybody screamed.

With a gargantuan effort, I turned around and promptly left the room. There didn't need to be a war fought over Pit. It wasn't worth it. Wearily, I retired to my room.

Things had to get better. Everyone had to get over Pit's victories and accept him. They accepted everyone else, even me, after a long time. Surely Pit would be the same. Surely he'd gain back their respect, once the new matches started.

It had to get better. It had to. I muttered a quick prayer to my goddesses, hoping sincerely that wherever they were, whatever they were doing, they would hear it.


	3. The Stone Bench

The next day, everybody avoided me – more than usual, that is. But they didn't ignore me. They shot glances at me, grinning like idiots, whispering behind their hands. Sometimes, the bolder ones would talk loudly about me. About how Pit and I were lovers, mostly. The stories got pretty graphic. I tuned them out. The rumors didn't bother me as much as they should have – I mean, they could have been a lot worse.

The only thing that bothered me was the fact that I didn't see Pit all day. He was conspicuously absent during class, something the class commented on frequently (i.e. "What a baby, he can't even take a joke!"). The empty seat drew my eyes when I wasn't pretending to focus, and I would stare at his unoccupied chair for half an hour, feeling a strange emptiness in myself, like somebody had scooped out a hole in my body with a scalpel. I hoped he was alright. I hoped he hadn't done anything stupid and dramatic.

When lunchtime came around, I decided to eat outside for a change. It would be nice to escape the unfailingly mocking whispers. I strode down the grassy, sun-warmed slope of the Mansion's lawn, looking for a suitable place to sit.

A flash of white caught my eye. I halted in my tracks, my eyes flickering over my surroundings, but nothing was there…yet I had been so sure that I had seen it…

"Hi, Link!" came a cheery shout in my ear.

I almost dropped my lunch bag in shock; as it happened, I _did _curse very loudly and stumble backwards.

Pit stood there, grinning at my surprise, his cheeks rosy, his eyes sparkling. "Colorful choice of words," he informed me. Yeah, he was still a smart-ass.

"You didn't have to yell at the top of your lungs," I said, massaging my ears.

"Sorry."

"Where have you been all day?"

Pit smiled widely. "With Samus!"

"Samus?" I repeated, nonplussed. I didn't remember her being absent.

"Yeah!"

"Dare I ask why?"

"We talked about some things," said Pit.

"What kind of things?"

Pit's grin faded a little. "Nosy, aren't you? That's between me and her."

"Oh," I said. To my incredible disbelief, I actually felt jealous. How pathetic. "Well…okay."

"Yeah, Samus is really sweet," said Pit. "Did you know that she admires you?"

"Hm."

"We talked about how you stood up for me," said Pit. "She said, 'Link's one of the only decent people in this place.'"

I didn't know what to say.

"I think you're decent, too," said Pit, reddening a little. "Thanks for…sticking up for me."

"Pit, Pit, Pit," I said, shaking my head slowly; he had it all wrong. "I only told them to shut up. If anything, I made things worse. So you should be punching me in the mouth right about now."

"Still," said Pit stubbornly. "It was nice of you to say."

He was so deluded. "Um, then, you're welcome."

"Come on," said Pit. "I want to show you something."

He was acting like we had known each other for years and years. And oddly, that's what it felt like. Pit was one of those rare people who made you feel like the only person in the world when he talked to you – like you were important to him, even if you were a stranger. Like you were best friends.

Resigned but curious, I followed him. He ran all the way down the slope, right into the center of the circle of weeping willow trees, where there was an old stone bench covered with moss. The bench had been there since I had arrived at the Mansion – nobody knew how old it was, or where it had come from, not even Master Hand.

"Sit," said Pit.

"It'll collapse under my weight."

"You're not _that _fat."

"It's dirty."

"So are you."

"Are you done insulting me?"

"Only if you're done stalling."

It was fun to argue with him. Hesitantly, I sat down on the bench. It creaked a little, but supported my weight. Pit plopped himself down next to me.

"Is this what you wanted to show me?" I asked. "Because everybody knows about it – it's probably older than the Mansion itself."

"No," said Pit. "Look."

He pointed at the gap between trees, where you could see the tops of distant hills rise out of the forest, their crests rimmed with a thick gold stripe of sunshine, clouds drifting lazily across the sky, puffy, like eyeless sheep ambling out to graze.

The sunlight hit his face precisely, lighting up his every feature.

"Isn't it beautiful?" he said. The sun was right in his eyes, but he didn't blink.

"I guess," I said.

"You _guess! _Look at those clouds!" He pointed again. "Angel Land is up there, somewhere. Maybe not here. Maybe in another universe. But it's in the clouds."

I looked at the clouds too, but all I could picture was cold, drowning rain.

"Where's Hyrule?" asked Pit.

"Far away," I said vaguely.

"Oh? Is it pretty?"

I recalled the deep-cutting gorges, the ugly, smoldering mountains, the dark woods. "Some parts are pretty."

"Do you miss it?" asked Pit, wide-eyed.

"Not particularly."

"Well, why not?"

"You ask a lot of silly questions," I said. "I don't know, Pit. I guess it's nice to _not _have to be a hero for once. To have a place where I'm safe and can be as irresponsible as I want."

"Hard being a hero?" said Pit, smirking.

"You could say that," I said. "Although, I do _sort of _enjoy it. The adrenaline…the danger…knowing that you made someone's life better."

Pit nodded. "I know what you mean. I'm a general."

"A general?" I repeated, looking at him in disbelief. He looked so young and vulnerable, so happy with his face ablaze with sunlight. "As in, an _army general?" _I couldn't imagine anyone who seemed less like a general.

"Yeah," said Pit, and his voice took on a new edge – a defensive edge. "Youngest general in Angel Land. I take my job seriously. The only drawback is the problem of my wings, but since I'm in Brawl, that should take care of that."

"Wow," I said blankly.

"Yeah."

I watched him stare right into the sun, smiling slightly. And I blurted out, "Are you okay?"

"Am I okay?" repeated Pit, looking a little confused.

"After yesterday," I said. "I mean, how are you so happy after what happened?"

It was as if someone had pulled a veil over the sun; the happy smile melted, and the peacefulness in the air seemed suddenly stagnant.

"Sorry," I added quickly. "You don't have to answer."

"No, it's a good question," said Pit calmly. "Like you said, I shouldn't give them any satisfaction. They'll quit eventually, right?"

I couldn't bring myself to capsize his unstable hope. "Right."

"So," said Pit, still unsmiling, in a very serious and business-like tone. "Seriously, Link…what's your favorite color?"

I started laughing. And once I did, it was hard to stop.

"Gr-Green," I finally choked out, bent double with my head resting on my knees. Peering sideways up at Pit, I saw that he still had a perfect poker face.

"I see," he said, strongly reminding me of a counselor. "I probably could have guessed that, though."

"Yeah, but not because my outfit is almost entirely green," I said, struggling to keep a straight face. "That totally wasn't a giveaway."

"I'm colorblind," said Pit evenly.

I sat up anxiously. "Really?"

"No."

And so our afternoon was filled with this kind of silliness. I wasn't sure that I was capable of being silly, but being with Pit brought something out in me, something buried and childlike and tender, something that I thought I had lost a long time ago. We ran through flocks of birds, startling them into taking flight. We looked for Pokemon in the trees. We arm wrestled (I won). We joked around. By the time dusk fell and we grew tired of games, I was in a glorious mood. I could practically fly. Was this what true friendship felt like? It was heavenly.

"Let's take a walk," Pit finally suggested.

I agreed. We walked along the edge of the darkening forest, and I noticed that our steps were synchronized, our shoulders occasionally brushing. For some reason, a thrill ran down my spine every time it happened. I shifted, moving myself slightly away from him.

"So," said Pit.

"So," I said.

"Can I ask you something?"

"That depends," I said. "Does it involve curiosity about me being an elf?"

Pit laughed. "No."

"Good," I said. "But just for the record...I'm not an elf. I'm Hylian."

"I'll remember that," said Pit, grinning. Then his mirth faded. "Actually, it's a serious question."

I felt a twinge of discomfort. "Of a personal variety?"

Pit nodded solemnly. "Of a personal variety."

"Okay." I smiled encouragingly at him, trying not to show my unease. "Shoot."

Pit was quiet for a long time, as if wondering how to phrase it. Finally, he spoke in a slow and careful voice, as though he sensed how uncomfortable I was. "When you first met me...you said that there was a lot wrong with you."

I had subconsciously known that at some point, our conversation would take a turn in our direction. I looked at him, at his shadow-streaked face, and waited.

"Well, you seem fine to me," said Pit, a smiling tugging at his lips. "I was just wondering...what you meant by that."

I didn't answer immediately. Pit's threatening smile disappeared.

"If that's too personal, you don't have to answer it," he added, looking worried. "I was curious, that's all. And if it's fixable, I want to help you. Just like you've been helping me."

"It's fine," I said.

It wasn't fine.

"I'm depressed," I confessed, before I could change my mind and tell him to forget it. "I have been for a long time."

Pit didn't say anything right away. I plowed on.

"I also used to be suicidal, but keeping busy with Brawl has helped me with that. That's actually the only reason I joined. I was afraid that if I had stayed in Hyrule, with nobody to supervise me, I would have done something stupid." The Triforce tingled slightly on my left hand. My constant reminder. "Honestly, if Master Hand hadn't sent me that invitation, I wouldn't be alive right now."

We stopped walking. Everything was quiet – even the rustling of the trees had gone silent. It felt as if something was constricting my chest. I waited for the judgment, for Pit to run away like everybody else, but he met my gaze steadily – unsympathetically, but still with compassion.

"I'm glad you joined, then," said Pit.

"Me too," I said. I was afraid to admit that until he arrived, I was damn near suicidal again. My separation from the other Brawlers had been taking its toll on my morale. Even amongst people of my stature, I was an outcast. I knew plainly that now, Pit was the only reason I was still in the program.

"Doesn't Hyrule need a hero, though?" asked Pit. "How did the people react when you left?"

"Hyrule was at peace when I left," I muttered. "Master Hand is supposed to alert me if there is danger – no matter how small. So far, nothing."

Pit looked at me with keen interest. "What will you do when Brawl is over with?"

I shrugged.

His gaze was like a laser, boring into my head. "You won't do anything stupid then, will you?"

"I don't know, Pit," I said truthfully. Then I decided to lie. "No."

Pit looked relieved. I had convinced him. I truly despised myself.

"We're broken, aren't we?" said Pit suddenly, smiling. "You and me."

I nodded. "Guess we are."

"We should make a group," he said, his face lighting up. "Us – and Samus, too. A secret group, where we can tell each other everything and get support." He spread his wings, looking both very old and incredibly young, and beautiful.

I mentally shook myself. How did the word 'beautiful' snake itself into my inner monologue?

"What do you think, Link?" asked Pit. "Maybe we can even recruit more members over time. I'm sure that not _everyone _at Brawl is rude. I'm sure that there are people like us, people who want to help. All we gotta do is find them."

"That sounds like a good idea," I said, and I meant it.

"Yeah," said Pit happily. "And what will we call it?"

I thought about it. "Flight."

Pit looked mildly surprised. "Where did you get that name?"

"Oh," I said, a little embarrassed now. "Well...I was just thinking about your wings. And how maybe this group can help you fly."

There was a small silence, in which I was afraid that perhaps I had insulted him. But then Pit's smile grew, if possible, even wider.

"_Flight," _he said, testing it out. "Oh! How about _Project _Flight? That sounds good, doesn't it?"

_Project Flight. _He was right. It _did _sound good.

"Okay," I said.

"Yeah!" Pit was bouncing up and down in his excitement. "I'll be the president! And you can be the vice president. And Samus can be the secretary. If that's all right with you, of course."

"Oh, yeah, totally," I said.

"Project Flight will be all about all about helping individuals spread their wings and fly! Figuratively for them, literally for me. Do you think it's possible, Link?"

Why did he care what I thought? "Yeah. Definitely."

"Then it's settled," said Pit. "I'll go and tell Samus. Our first meeting will be tomorrow, by our stone bench."

I liked the way he said 'our'.

"Okay," I said. I felt like a bobblehead, nodding and agreeing to everything he said.

"We'll meet there for lunch," said Pit decidedly. Then, half-gliding, he turned and dashed away, calling over his shoulder, "See you then!"

Yeah, Pit, I thought to myself fondly, as I watched him disappear over the hill. See you then.


	4. Standard Regulations

I hated fans.

I realized that they didn't know me on a personal level; they only knew the Link that the media portrayed, which was drastically incorrect, and thus they didn't know how I felt about, well, anything. They just saw me as a fighting machine in a green hat. I couldn't really blame them for swallowing the media's lies.

All of my fans thought that I hated Ganondorf with all of my heart, and that we were out to kill each other all the time, and if we were placed in the same room for any prolonged amount of time, we would inevitably end up in an epic battle full of blood and explosions.

In reality, that wasn't how it worked.

Did I hate Ganondorf? Yes, immensely so. He tried to bring ruin to my kingdom. He kidnapped my ruler and exploited her powers. He tried his hardest to kill me. Of course I hated him; who wouldn't? But did I want to kill him? That was a different story.

Actually, I didn't really think about him anymore. I walked by him on a regular basis and nothing ever happened; we just ignored each other. Fans seemed to think that I had no self control when it came to Ganondorf, but that simply wasn't true. Ganondorf and I were not allowed to come into direct contact with one another. Technically, he was not allowed to contact _me – _I could absolutely walk up to him and instigate a normal conversation. But it was a sort of unwritten rule that it worked both ways.

Despite this evidence that we could, however uneasily, coexist, fans still seemed to think that we salivated for each other's blood, and a "Ganondorf vs. Link" battle was among the top requested battles that fans sent to Master Hand. These battles always put me in a bad mood.

It was after a particular brutal Ganondorf battle that I stumbled into the infirmary to have my wounds tended, my ears still ringing from the fans' screams. Samus was already there, working as a volunteer (we all had to do it eventually, it was another weird thing Master Hand insisted on). She chuckled quietly when she saw me.

I shot her a glare that could have killed a small animal.

"Oh, don't be like that," said Samus, sitting on the edge of my bed.

"I think I'm allowed to," I said, dropping the act. Samus wasn't afraid of me and we both knew it. "It was another Ganondorf battle."

I could tell at once that she understood. "Oh. Sorry."

"That's alright," I muttered. "Gotta give the crowd what it wants, right?"

"Did you win?" asked Samus.

I nodded. "Barely. It was a close fight." I rolled my shoulders back and forth, working out the kinks. "I think they enjoyed that quite a bit."

"Have you _ever _lost to him?" asked Samus, her eyebrows raising.

"Twice," I said, holding up two fingers. Then I double-checked in my head. "Wait – no. Three times. He used a lot of items." My lip curled with disgust before I could stop it.

"Well, that's hardly fair," said Samus.

"Neither is life."

"What an optimistic attitude," said Samus teasingly.

I grinned in spite of myself. "That's me. Always looking on the bright side."

We were silent for a little while. Samus turned and rummaged for something, emerging from her bag with a white bottle in one hand.

"Well, here," she said. "Some extra strength painkillers, just for you."

"Thanks," I muttered, feeling soreness flare in my muscles. I emptied a small pile of pills into my hand and then stared at them like they were some sort of sacred treasure.

Samus snatched the bottle back from me. "What are you doing? Take two. Two only. Put the other ones back."

Grudgingly, I poured most of the pile into her cupped hands.

"Sorry, kid, but I would get in trouble if you overdosed." Samus tipped them back into the bottle, screwed the cap on, and thrust it out of sight. I watched it disappear into her leather bag.

I looked at her then, trying to puzzle her out. Scrutinizing her, taking her apart in my mind to find the clockwork inside, attempting to understand her like I had never tried to understand anyone else in the Mansion. Samus Aran. I had never paid much attention to the name. She was just another faded hero, a figure that went with our textbooks, another flashy opponent. Samus was a loner, like I was. But she always got a lot of attention for her natural beauty.

I guess my stare had fallen downward, because Samus huffed out a frustrated breath, hiked her collar up, and stalked away from me.

"Just like every other stupid man at this place," she growled.

"Wait," I said, blinking. "I wasn't –"

"Always violating my privacy," Samus said angrily, slamming the window shut with a _bang. _"Staring at me with their eyes bugging out and their mouths hanging open like complete _idiots – _not even thinking how that makes me feel –"

"Samus," I said, standing up. My muscles screamed their protest. "I wasn't looking at you like that."

She whirled around, face slightly red, breathing hard through her nose. "Oh really, Master Link? If you weren't staring at my breasts –"

My face burned at the mention of the word.

" - then what were you looking at?"

"Nothing," I persisted. "I was lost in thought, that's all. I didn't even realize I was staring at..." My voice trailed off.

"You didn't _realize!" _Samus's voice ripped through an octave. "How could you not _realize?"_

"I wasn't paying attention!" I said helplessly, raising my arms up in a tacit sign of surrender. "I'm sorry if I offended you!"

"You _did _offend me," said Samus haughtily. "Everyone offends me here. This whole institution offends me." Her breathing slowed; she seemed to be calming down. "But I suppose I can forgive you. At least the person _apologizing _is a first."

I sat back on the bed and rubbed my temples, trying to soothe my newly developing migraine.

"I don't do that kind of thing," I said finally.

"What?" asked Samus sardonically, zipping up her bag with a little more force than necessary. "Drool over female body parts?"

"Yeah, that."

"You must not be a human male then. Or at least a _straight _human male." She paused, straightening up. "You are human, right? I just assumed..."

"I'm human," I confirmed. "The ears throw some people off. I'm of the Hylian race. But I'm human, yes, and _not _an elf."

"I wasn't going to suggest it," said Samus. "Elves make me think of short people and Santa Claus."

"Who's Santa Claus?" I asked.

"Never mind." She opened a drawer and slid a long silver needle out of it. "Sorry," she said apologetically when she saw the look on my face. "Standard regulations. I have to make sure you're nice and healthy. Needles don't freak you out, do they?"

"A little bit," I said truthfully.

Samus laughed as she pulled up my sleeve, her fingers cold as ice. "But you're a swordsman."

"It does sound ridiculous," I admitted. "But I just don't like the way they slide under your skin."

"Never thought you, Mister Triforce of Courage, would be afraid of anything," Samus teased.

"Courage isn't the lack of fear," I said. I heard my voice change, like I was reciting scripture. "It's strength in the face of it."

Samus gave me a weird look.

"Talked to Pit recently?" she asked. Something colder than her fingers touched my arm.

"Yeah, quite a bit, actually," I said as normally as I could. "We're friends." I mentally cringed at my boastful tone.

"How do you like him?" asked Samus casually. "He's sweet, isn't he?"

"Very."

"What are your other impressions?"

I thought about it, sorting through my mind. To tell the truth, there were many, _many _impressions of Pit. "He's funny without meaning to be, clever, and he's got a good heart. I like him. He's nice to me. Why are you asking?"

"Oh, I'm just distracting you as I put the needle in," said Samus cheerfully. She plucked it out of my arm again with the smallest pinprick of pain. "See? You barely felt it."

"What did you do?"

"I took some blood," said Samus bluntly. "Master Hand tests it to see if you have become immune to the healing stuff we use. If you have, you get a shot, and it breaks that immunity down. No big deal."

"Healing stuff?"

"Yeah, you know how you get a shot before each match?"

I nodded.

"That's the healing stuff," said Samus. "It makes your body resistant to attacks. That's why nobody ever gets hurt during matches. It's a little freaky. It wears off after a while, though, and sometimes your body gets immune to it, and that's when people get hurt."

Now that she was explaining it, I did recall hearing this topic raise several times during our lessons. I just never paid it any particular attention.

Changing the subject, I said, "Did you hear about that group thing Pit wants to start?"

Samus nodded as she tucked the syringe, its compartment now scarlet with my blood, out of sight.

"It's pretty stupid," she said. "Hand me that patch, would you?"

I did. "It's not stupid. It's nice."

"It might be nice, but it's stupid," said Samus, pressing the patch over the puncture mark on my arm. "Does he _know _the people around here? They're crazy. All of them." She sighed. "I just hope he doesn't go around putting up posters about it."

I felt a twinge of discomfort. If Pit made our group public, the others would just pick on him more. They might escalate to violence. And I couldn't always be around to defend him when that happened.

"I'll make sure he doesn't," I said. "I think it's more of a secretive thing. You know, we find someone crying the hallway and get them to spill about their problems, and then they can get help. I doubt we'll have meetings and stuff."

Samus shook her head. "I hope you're right." She zipped up her leathery bag and shoved it under the bed. "You're free to leave. If you're immune, we'll call you back for more shots. Okay?"

"Sounds good," I said, jumping off the bed. I bowed with flourish. "Until next time, my lady."

Looking amused, she extended her hand. I kissed it.

"Wow," said Samus, giggling. It seemed un-Samus-like for her to do. "I guess Hyrule has a few gentlemen after all."

"Maybe it has something to do with growing up next to a castle," I said.

Samus frowned. "I always mix the Links up. Are you the one who lived in the forest?"

"I believe you are thinking of my ancestor, Ocarina Boy."

"So you _can't_ play the ocarina?"

"I can try," I said. "I hope you enjoy the sound of birds dying, because that's the only sound I can make with one."

"That's right," said Samus, smiling. "You're Wolf Boy."

"Yes, ma'am." I turned for the door. "See you later, Sam..."

"Us," said Samus, her eyes narrowing. "Sam_us. _Don't ever, ever, _ever _curse me with that _ridiculous _nickname."

"I was getting to the 'us' part," I said.

"I thought you were leaving."

"I am. Quit distracting me."

Samus rolled her eyes. I turned back around, pushing the door open.

"Oh, and Link," she called.

I paused.

"Take care of Pit for me, okay?" Her voice was more serious than before, almost commanding.

"Of course," I said quietly, and left before she could ask me anything else.

* * *

><p>I had never really had a friend at the Mansion before; Marth was apt to turn on me at a moment's notice, and therefore barely counted as an acquaintance, let alone a friend. But when I was with Pit, I was happy. I returned from his presence feeling lighthearted. I enjoyed being with him.<p>

Mostly it was just the quirky personality. He loosened up after a while, and he became funnier each day. He laughed at nothing. I had never met someone who laughed simply for the pleasure of laughing, but Pit would laugh, listen to himself, and laugh again.

He saw beauty where others saw nothing.

"Look," he'd say, and stop walking.

"What?" I'd say.

He would point at something insignificant. Usually I wouldn't see it the first time. But when I finally did see it, whether it be a colorful beetle, a pretty golden weed, a dewy spiderweb, or maybe the fact that somebody had changed the color of their curtains, the sheer simplicity of every one of his 'Look's would amaze me.

And along with Pit, I also gained Samus as a friend. She wasn't stone-cold or impenetrable as many thought, but friendly and smart about all the right things. Sometimes she tagged along with Pit and I, but sometimes she'd disappear without a trace for hours on end. When I asked Pit why she always ran off, he shrugged and said, "That's just what Samus does. She likes being alone."

I wondered if _I _preferred solitude. After all, I had been isolated at the Mansion for a long time. But I guess that wasn't by choice.

"So when's our first meeting?" said Pit.

We sitting on our favorite stone bench on a chilly afternoon, watching a tiny bug Pokemon crawl up the nearest willow tree.

"Oh," I said. "I didn't know we would have meetings."

"You're silly," said Pit. "Of course we will. So when do you want to meet?"

I didn't answer him. I just watched the stupid bug fall off the tree and attempt to climb back up its mossy surface.

"Link?"

"I'm busy," I muttered, suddenly ashamed of myself. "I have fights a lot. Master Hand says I'm a crowd favorite."

"You have free days," Pit pointed out.

"I need them," I said, more sharply than I intended. "I'm tired a lot. I need to rest. I can't..."

We were silent then. Maybe Pit was angry with me. Maybe there was just nothing to say. Just when I thought I couldn't bear the silence, Pit broke it, his voice unexpectedly gentle.

"You don't have to come."

"Don't be ridiculous," I said.

"I mean it," said Pit. "If you think Project Flight is stupid, you can just tell me. I'm not going to kidnap you and force you to come." He inched closer. "You don't have to lie to me, Link."

The bug fell off again. I was amazed by its tenacity.

"I'm afraid they won't like it," I said, so quietly that I wasn't entirely sure if I was audible.

"Wasn't it you who told me not to care what they think?" Pit countered calmly.

"Those were just words," I said. I felt weird. I was a ticking time bomb. I was a pent-up disaster waiting to happen. I was a darker version of myself, kicking and screaming and clawing out of my own body. "I said that to comfort you. I didn't mean it."

Pit frowned. "Are you saying I _should _care about what the others think?"

I stood up, startling the bug; it went tumbling to the ground. _"Yes!_ If you just ignore them, if you go around holding meetings and putting up posters – and – and whatever else you want to do, they're going to hurt you, do you understand me?" I was flinging the words viciously at him, throwing them like daggers. "They're going to rip your heart out and grind it into the ground! That's what bullies do, Pit! They kill you from the inside out!"

Pit's mouth opened slightly. He seemed shocked into silence.

"I don't want you to get hurt," I said, breathing hard. My voice lowered to a croak. "I couldn't stand it."

The silence rang. It was almost loud. I stood there, feeling like my voice, my thoughts, were raw and blistering. Leaves gently drifted down around us, having been knocked from their branch by a wild gesture I'd made. And Pit still didn't say a word, gazing at me with an unreadable expression.

"I'm sorry," I said in a more normal voice. "Really. Can we keep Project Flight as secret project? Please?"

Pit's voice was soft and even. "How will we help people if we don't spread the word?"

"I don't know," I said. I had no answers for anything. "We'll help people. I promise. But we can't just go around advertising. The hassling will just get worse."

"Sometimes sacrifices are necessary," said Pit, and he left me standing there in the middle of the clearing. The emptiness he left behind made my stomach clench, like someone punched me in the gut.

Slowly I bent down, picked up the persistent bug Pokemon in my arms, and set it on top of a stable branch.

"There," I told it. "You're welcome. But don't get used to it. There's not always going to be someone around to help you out."

It looked back at me with thankful, inquisitive eyes. All the answers I'd been missing.


End file.
